Part 34 (1/2)

Once Delani had placed the body of Nessa Singer and their supplies in position up the trail, he jogged back through the dark forest. His next task was to move around and catch the closest perimeter guard by surprise. Gilles would take the other, so that there would be no one firing at them as they escaped.

Finding his way through the maze of trees with almost no visibility proved more difficult than he initially antic.i.p.ated. After a few long minutes, he began to think he'd gone too far.

As he stumbled around the trunk of a tree, nearly tripping on its thick roots, a shadow rose up before him. Delani's heart thumped when he realized he'd erred.

The soldier spun slowly, a.s.sault rifle in hands. Barrel-chested and with thick trunk-like arms, he stood as an imposing figure to the South African. But Delani was less surprised then his opponent.

His long knife came up, his arm turned in at the elbow. He thrust the blade toward the man's neck, but the soldier reacted, bringing his arm up to block. Delani muttered a silent curse as the two fumbled backward over the roots of the tree.

And then the worst thing possible happened.

The soldier squeezed the trigger.

Lutalo walked along the perimeter of the clearing, never fooled by a peaceful night. His wild eyes lingered over the sleeping tent, ready for another bout of madness. He already had to put down a man the night before. The soldier had awakened raving like a lunatic. Lutalo didn't hesitate. That quality had placed him close to the general. He could end a man's life without a second thought.

A flicker of movement between the Jeeps caught his attention as he walked across the gra.s.sy plain. When his eyes locked on the vehicles, the guard stationed there was nowhere to be found.

Lutalo narrowed his eyes curiously as he headed over.

As he moved around the pa.s.senger side of the big truck, he spotted a silhouette crouched between the wheels of the Jeep. From this distance, the man was only a shadow, but he seemed to be inspecting something near one of the Jeep's wheels.

Had the guard found something unusual there?

Lutalo was going to find out when a rattle of gunfire sounded in the distance. He spun, looking at the wall of forest. Just beyond the forest line, he had stationed a sentry.

Jean's body tensed when he heard the stream of automatic fire. It came from nearby, across the trail. He had checked in with the eastern sentry only a moment before, keeping an eye out for pygmies. He was heading back toward the clearing and had almost reached the break in the foliage.

Although the gunfire seemed to originate from the sentry on the opposite side of the trail, if they were under attack the closer sentry might need his guidance.

Jean crept through the forest, drawing his automatic Glock. He held the weapon in front of him and rounded a tree trunk.

The sentry came into view, leaned against the tree, his a.s.sault rifle pointed at the ground. Jean spotted a shadow moving in the undergrowth. He aimed his Glock and fired. For the second time that night, automatic fire ripped through the sleeping forest.

Leaves burst around the shadowy figure, and he dove to the ground. The sentry looked up, bringing his a.s.sault rifle to the ready.

Gilles hugged the ground as bullets flew over his head. The second gunman, his original target, pointed the barrel of the Kalashnikov into the bushes that Gilles crouched in.

Mud blasted around him and leaves shredded as he inhaled the scents of metal and smoke. Completely abandoning his knife, his hand slipped to his AK-47 resting in the mud. He pulled the long rifle up beside him and blindly squeezed the trigger. It rattled against his chest and stomach, bruising the flesh.

The enemy soldiers scrambled for cover. The one at the tree dove around the trunk, while the other hit the ground, pistol extended.

Gilles took the momentary reprieve to crawl back on his elbows until he slid behind a mound of earth. He rested the AK-47 in the dirt and let loose a stream of fire. The dark night lit up with the flashes of gunfire.

Brandon ducked his head at the first sound of gunfire. His nerve-rattled mind thought he had somehow done something wrong and been spotted, but when he realized the gunfire originated in the jungle, he knew it was somebody else who had blown their cover. That was no relief.

He felt vulnerable as he crept across the clearing. The sound of shouts from the camp to his right and the continued fighting to his left drove him faster. He abandoned stealth and sprinted toward the driver's side door.

His breath caught in his throat as he pounded the mud and, as he reached the door, he jumped for it. His body hit the door, banging loudly. But Brandon didn't pause. He pulled the door open and climbed into the musty cabin. Inside, the walls were plagued with as much rust as the outside, and the seat cus.h.i.+ons were torn to shreds.

He sat down in the driver's seat and reached up to the visor as Ike had suggested. The Australian seemed to think the ignition keys would be kept inside the vehicle. In fact, he had hinged the entire plan on that fact. So when Brandon didn't find a visor waiting for him, he began to panic.

What would he do if there wasn't a key? Frantically, his hands slid across the dashboard, kicking up dust and not much else.

In his rearview mirror, he saw shapes emerging from tents. The entire camp would be roused in only a few short moments, and Brandon had no means of escape.

G.o.d d.a.m.n it!

His hands slid across the steering wheel in defeat. Something firm and rigid sliced across his fingers. Brandon looked down in surprise at the steering column. When he saw the key in the ignition he wanted to slap himself.

He hesitated. Although the camp was alerted, they still didn't know where he was. The sound of the engine would change all that. Once he turned it, there'd be no turning back.

He took a deep breath and twisted the ignition key.

Lutalo was sure something was very wrong with the sentry by the Jeeps. Instead of responding to the sounds of gunfire, the silhouette had crouched further between the vehicles in an attempt to hide. That was not the reaction Lutalo expected from one of his soldiers.

He drew his pistol as he jogged across the clearing, his eyes set on the stranger. One shot to the head, quick and easy, but no sport.

A rumble to his right made him pause. Lutalo swung his gaze in that direction, settling on the tractor-trailer, its engine rattling. Lutalo changed directions immediately.

He ran right up to the pa.s.senger side door and yanked it open along its rusty hinges. The driver turned his head, a white man with curly brown hair. Lutalo got one look at him and tensed his muscles. The man looked afraid, an expression Lutalo relished.

And the man was unarmed.

Lutalo placed his gun on the step at the bottom of the doorway and drew his knife.

The man sat, frozen in place, another trophy for Lutalo's earring.

d.a.m.n it. Too soon!

Ike stood up from setting his trap and looked out across the encampment. Already the soldiers were waking up and taking up weapons. Soon they would respond to the attack with automatic fire. Ike needed to give Brandon and Raoul a chance to get into position.

He lifted the grenade launcher, arcing it toward the center of the tents. When he squeezed the trigger, the metal cylinder blasted back into his arms with a loud pop. The projectile shot out into the darkness and vanished. Not a moment later, a ball of fire erupted between two of the tents throwing fabric, poles, blankets, and men in all directions.

No way had anyone slept through that, Ike mused. He held the weapon at the ready, but didn't fire immediately. The launcher's ammunition was limited.

Raoul scrambled to the side of the Jeep at his right, the one mounted with the machine gun. As per the plan, the Frenchman climbed inside, crawling into the driver's seat. Ike watched as Raoul fumbled his hands around the ignition switch then moved them along the dashboard, and between the seats.

When he didn't find a key he turned to Ike and asked, ”What now?”

”Go to the truck,” Ike ordered. ”Now.”

Lutalo's wild eyes would have sent chills down Brandon's body in any situation. Now in the dead of night, in the middle of the rebel camp, he felt the cool creep of death.

Moonlight glinted off of the long knife in the African's hands. Brandon couldn't miss the razor sharp edge of the blade, nor the corded muscles in the arms that carried it. The seat cus.h.i.+on squeaked as Lutalo crawled forward into the pa.s.senger seat.

For a moment, Brandon sat paralyzed, unsure what to do. As he collected his wits and realized the engine was still thrumming in front of him, he jammed the truck into gear and slammed his foot down on the gas pedal. The diesel engine roared as the vehicle sprang into motion.

Although slow to start, the initial quick jerk of movement threw Lutalo off balance and he fell back against the cus.h.i.+on. He gripped the seat with both hands to catch himself.

Brandon pushed the pedal all the way to floor. The truck bounced and jarred on the uneven ground underneath. It was too slow to pick up speed, carrying the weight of the trailer and the plane on its back.